Wedged in Tight
by Consulting Whovian of Galifrey
Summary: John's enjoying his day off, Sherlock's at a crime scene. Nothing out of the ordinary. Right? OCTOJOHN! Porn, M/M, Tentacles. You know, beware and all that. This was co-written with a stranger on Omegle. OneShot. Complete.


**This is something I did on Omegle with a stranger. It was fun and they were brilliant at being John. So, anything from Sherlock's view is me and vice versa. Enjoy.**

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_Sherlock, are you terribly busy? JW_

John set his phone aside and pondered how his own stupidity got him into this issue. While Sherlock was out on a case, John had decided to take the time to drop his human charade and take a warm, relaxing bath, spreading his tentacles every which way. It was nice, and he almost never got to do this under the gaze of his hyper-observant flatmate. Unfortunately, things had taken a turn for the worse. After hearing an awful clunking noise in the pipe, he'd had the bright idea to check what it was with his own tentacle, snaking it up the tap. He'd gone too far, stayed there too long, and now he was wedged in tight, the over-dried skin of his appendage chafing and painful in the too-tight metal ring. Now he'd have to ask for help, and damned if he knew what he was going to say when Sherlock saw _this._

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Sherlock glanced at the text as he left the crime scene. It was a simple one really. An idiot could have done it. Except that none of them could._ I've just finished the case. It was the brother. SH_

Sherlock slipped the phone into his pocket and hailed a cab, setting out for Baker St.

_Great. I need your help, and I also need you not to freak out. JW_

Sherlock frowned at the text. The cab was just pulling up to the flat and the Detective was very confused, which he did not appreciate. Usually he was the one telling John not to freak out when it came to the flat.

_Where are you? SH. _Sherlock typed, opening the door.

_In the bathtub. JW_

Sherlock paused on the staircase. What on earth could John need help with in the bathtub? The pale man blushed slightly as his mind wondered down a road he found himself on quite a lot since meeting John. With faltering footsteps, he made it to the door, hanging his coat on the rack. He then made his way down the hall to their bathroom, only pausing a second before opening the door.

The sight that met him was not exactly what he expected. A beet red John, yes. Tentacles from the mans waist down, no.

John looked up to see Sherlock gaping at him and held up his hands (and unknowingly two tentacles) palms (and suckers) outward. "I know you have questions, but I asked you not to freak out." He gestured at the tap. "I'm stuck. Could we focus on that first, questions later?"

Sherlock blinked. Opened his mouth. Closed it again. Finally he cleared his throat and began unbuttoning his suit jacket, throwing the clothing out the door and rolling up the sleeves of his purple dress shirt. "Lets see." He said, crouching at the end of the tub. John shifted so that the Detective had a clear view of the stuck appendage. Sherlock gently pressed his fingers to the tentacle, marveling at the texture, and observing the situation.

John hissed in pain as Sherlock's touch went over the part that was wedged into the faucet. The skin there was chafed raw from his attempts to get himself free, and it's natural lubricant had all but dried out. "Sorry, sorry." He said, apologizing for jumping at the touch. "I think something to smooth it over wouldn't go amiss."

Sherlock nodded and muttered, "I'll be right back." He rushed out the door and began rummaging through the kitchen, looking through every cupboard until he found what he was looking for. With a triumphant grin, he returned to the bathroom, brandishing canola oil.

"Yes, good plan." John agreed. Say what you like, Sherlock was nothing if not resourceful. "Just so long as you're not planning to try your hand at calamari with that." He added, hoping a joke with their brand of dark humor would alleviate the tension a bit.

Sherlock smirked, moving back to his previous position and pouring some of the oil on his hands. As he began massaging it into Johns tentacle he retorted, "Now, John, you know I don't like seafood."

John chuckled softly. "I've never been more thankful." He assured his friend. It still stung for the area to be touched, but it wasn't as bad. He could feel the give around the tap starting to loosen as his skin was lubricated. He wiggled the appendage, trying to gain some leverage for it to slip free.

Sherlock put more oil on his hands and applied it as close to the tap as possible, feeling John's limb wriggling in an attempt to get free.

John grasped the base of the limb, where it met his hip, and tugged sharply. Between the oil and the pull, he wiggled himself out. The tentacle seemed to take a long time to slide free from the pipe, falling into the cold remnants of his bathwater. He sighed in relief and massaged it gently to get rid of the pins-and-needles sensation of blood loss. "Thank you, Sherlock. That would have been awful to try and explain to a plumber."

Sherlock sat back on his heels and hummed in agreement, observing the movements of the extensions. His silvery eyes raked up to Johns waist where blue faded into tanned skin.

The ring around where his skin had been chafed was reddened and irritated, but the rest of his limbs remained the same mottled blue they'd always been. After a few moments of silence, John finally looked up, tentacle still in his hand. "So... you've got questions?"

"Yes, I believe I do." the pale detective muttered. He reached forward, hand hovering over a limb that had lounged over the side of the tub. "May I?"

John swallowed, and nodded. His tentacle reached up toward the hand that hovered above it, winding gently around Sherlock's wrist. The suckers stuck and unstuck in little 'kisses' against his skin.

Sherlock tilted his head and asked, "What's the name of your species?"

John smiled. "Cecaelian is the common name." He replied. "Nobody's ever given us a latin, scientific name, if that's what you mean."

A nod was all that was given as Sherlock stroked his talented violinist fingers down the tentacle, watching with interest as John shuddered. "How did you hide it so well. I've seen you walk around like you have legs."

John snorted. "I _do_ have legs." Admittedly, he was unaccustomed to having his tentacles touched, but he tried his best to keep a clear head. "Just not when I'm submerged in water. When I dry out altogether, I'm as- well, at least I _look_ as human as you."

Sherlock smirked. "Intriguing. Are they very sensitive?"

"A bit. They can feel sensation of course, but also they... sort of taste? It's hard to explain. But I can sense the salt content on your hands. And the iron where you gripped the door handle."

Sherlock glanced up at John and slowly leaned forward until he was nearly nose to nose. "Is that so?" he breathed.

John raised his eyebrows, feeling a flush come over his face and chest. "Sherlock?" He started slowly. "What are you doing?"

Sherlock took a deep breath, hiding his nerves from the smaller man. "Experimenting." And then he was slowly kissing John.

John closed his eyes, and sighed through his nose. He didn't know what he was expecting from Sherlock when he had to text him, but it certainly wasn't _this_. Granted, he'd been hoping for something like this since he first set eyes on the detective- who'd have thought telling him that he wasn't entirely human would be the tipping point. His tentacles wound themselves around Sherlock's wrists, tugging him toward John, and all but pulling him into the tub. Sherlock shuddered as the cool water caused goosebumps on his arms. He flicked his tongue out and caressed Johns lips, seeking an opening. John surged forward, and gladly opened his mouth to Sherlock's exploration. He reached up and tangled his wet fingers into Sherlock's hair, scratching lightly at the scalp with his fingernails.

Sherlock moaned, running his tongue along Johns and quickly moving his hands up to his shirt buttons, fumbling to undo them.

John finally came up for air, and leaned back against the tile. "Not that I'm complaining..." In fact, he helped Sherlock undo his shirt buttons to show how very much he was _not_ complaining. "But just so I know... is it these? Is that what's doing it?" He asked indicating his tentacles.

Sherlock coughed, feeling his face flush. "No, I've had these thoughts for a while now." He glanced away as he muttered, "When you texted that you needed help in the bath, I actually thought..."

John looked at him confusedly for a moment longer before realization dawned on his face. "_Oh_. I... oh, yeah, I could see how you would think." He shifted a little. "Well, still. I'm glad. I've wanted you since the moment I set eyes on you. I figured this would ruin any chance I'd ever had."

Sherlock chuckled low in his chest, dipping his head to kiss Johns collarbone. "John, I'm considered a freak among humans. I think if anything, I would have ruined my chances with you before you could ever scare me away."

John gave Sherlock his most charming smile. "Oh, I'd like to see you _try_ and scare me off. Between almost being killed four times in our first week as flatmates, plus you putting fingers in the teakettle, I think I can handle just about anything you throw at me." John nosed the spot just behind Sherlock's ear, and took the lobe between his teeth.

Sherlock gasped and finally pulled his shirt off, moving his hands to his trousers as he nibbled and licked Johns shoulder. John swore, and moved to divest Sherlock of his trousers. "You will not appreciate it if I pull you into this tub and ruin your good suit."

The Consulting Detective agreed silently, maneuvering himself so that he could be rid of his clothes. When he was free of them at last, he moved so he was sitting in the cool water, practically straddling his blogger. John spent a few moments just staring at Sherlock and his miles and miles of perfect, beautiful skin. "God, you're beautiful." He breathed, pulling him down for another kiss. Two larger, stronger lower arms wrapped around the detective's thighs, holding him close.

Sherlock moaned into Johns mouth at the sensation of the tentacles stroking his thighs. He pulled back just enough to murmur against Johns lips, "Doctor Watson, are you tasting me?" He smirked.

"A bit, yeah." He grinned back. "And also making sure you can't escape." He tightened his grip for a split-second, demonstrating their considerable strength. "Sorry, you're trapped now." He teased, not sounding sorry at all.

"Mmmm." Sherlock moaned, letting the sound vibrate in his chest. He gently took one of the tentacles swirling in the water and brought it up to his lips, first placing light kisses on it, then running his tongue along the side.

John hissed softly, and his head thunked backward against the wall. "Ah, try that again...This one." He gently removed the appendage Sherlock had picked out, and offered him a different one. It was more tapered than the others, and lacked the suckers on the underside.

Sherlock smirked at the good doctors reaction and without warning wrapped his mouth around the one that was offered to him, sucking slightly while caressing it with his muscle.

John gasped openly this time, and his breathing picked up significantly. "I'm going to die." He said, letting one tentacle sweep between Sherlock's legs, caressing him and teasing at the skin. "And I'm not going to care one little bit."

Sherlock moaned around the tentacle and rocked back at the touch between his legs. It was so good. John leaned up and kissed and suckled on the side of Sherlock's neck. His tentacles, except for the two that held Sherlock's thighs, squirmed and writhed against him, and John could sense the salt and soap and slight-chemicaliness that was so uniquely Sherlock. He nudged the smoothest one, that Sherlock had been suckling a moment before, down underneath, pressing against his entrance. Just barely touching. "You can tell me to stop.." he whispered, making sure Sherlock knew he had the chance.

Sherlock ducked his head to press his forehead against Johns, eyes dark with lust. "I want this, John." He whispered huskily, bucking slightly against the appendage.

John moaned, and took Sherlock's mouth greedily. His smooth arm nudged gently at Sherlock's hole, but with more insistence than before. Soon, the tip relaxed the muscle enough to work it's way inside. It was slightly thicker than a human thumb, and tapered out slowly for the first three inches or so. John panted against Sherlock's mouth. "God, you're so warm.

A groan escaped the tall mans cupid-bow lips and he pressed his cheek against his lovers, sending gasping breaths against the blonde's ear. Sherlock started moving against the arm that was stretching him and panted, "More."

Well, John was certainly happy to be accommodating. He gripped Sherlock's waist with his hands, and pushed further into him, murmuring sweet and filthy nothings into his ear. He squirmed slightly, inside Sherlock's body until the tip of his tentacle found the tiny bundle of nerves it was looking for, and pressed against it.

"Aaauugh!" Sherlock cried in ecstasy, arching his back. "John!" he started fucking himself on the appendage, eyes closing at the pleasure coursing through him.

John groaned in pleasure, biting down on Sherlock's collarbone. He started to draw his tentacle out, then slide it back in again, bucking his hips against Sherlock. He wrapped a hand against his lover's straining cock, stroking it in time with their motion.

The detective panted as his body was jerked back and forth with the motions of their passion, hissing at the love bite John applied to his collar. He tangled his hand through the soft, short blonde hair, tugging at it and lapping at John's earlobe. John squeezed his eyes shut. He wasn't going to last much longer. "Sherlock... Sher, I'm," He gasped, holding Sherlock tight against his chest, and stroking faster along his prick.

Sherlock felt the heat coil in his stomach as the tentacle rubbed in and out, stroking his walls. With a final shudder he came all over their chests, clamping around John's appendage. It wasn't long before he felt John's hot cum splattering his insides.

They sat for a moment, simply gasping in air, John rubbing his hand along Sherlock's spine while the Detective was curled into his shoulder. "Bloody hell." John finally gasped.

Sherlock laughed, nuzzling John's throat. "Agreed."

John slowly pulled his arm out of his lover, surprised at how deep he had been thrusting. Sherlock moaned as his sensitive opening was pulled at and felt a cool trickle of cum slide out after John's tentacle was removed. Kissing John's neck he muttered, "We'll have to do this again sometime."

John grinned and kissed Sherlock's head of curls. "Definitely." he whispered.

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**And done! It seems all I'm posting is tentacle porn. 0.0 Oh well. I'll try to do something different next time. Maybe a VampireLock oneshot.**

**Review, my pretties. I love reviews.**

**-Consulting Whovian of Galifrey.**


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